Sing a Song for Me
by the cat and the canary
Summary: Set of drabbles based off songs. Rated T to be safe. Balthier/Vaan centric, but not completely.
1. Neighborhood Girls

Okay, so I've decided to do a little something for this fandom. It's like the shuffle drabble challenge, only I have problems listening to a song I know while writing. I try to sing while writing and I accidentally type the song lyrics and then the song is over I really only have two lines written. Maybe. So, I'm just going to probably make this a daily thing and write around the first song that pops up on my shuffle.

* * *

_Neighborhood Girls -Suzanne Vega_

People had been asking about him. Little kids, orphans mostly, asking 'round about a blonde haired youth, barely seventeen. When asked by large, pleading eyes the bangaa that usually sat outside the Sandsea would nearly give in (he had a soft spot for the wee things, despite appearances) and tell them that yes he had seen the boy, but would stop himself. Yes, he had seen the boy, but sauntering through the Sandsea's door with a, ah, _client_ close on his heels, no doubt headed for the room in the tavern Tomaj kept open for him.

No way was he going to be the one to ruin their image of their fearless, rat slaying leader.

Instead, he'd shake his head and suggest a place they should try. Dalan's, maybe, or the warehouse. The kids would scurry off quickly to continue their search.

However, one morn he felt someone approaching and was prepared to give some little street orphan the same advice he did most of them when this someone cleared his throat in an irritated manner and asked the same question the kids did: Where is the boy?

The bangaa just blinked a moment, recalling that the subject had entered the Sandsea with a patron not even an hour ago. The bangaa said as much, gesturing towards the door.

The man's eyes narrowed and he turned on his heel to head into the bar. The bangaa continued nursing his usual drink, nearly falling out of his seat when the door slammed open and the man from earlier stormed out, dragging out the rather disheveled and loudly cursing blonde youth by the scruff of the neck.

He had the feeling the lad wouldn't be seen around for a while.


	2. Careful

I lied about daily. I decided to put up this one as well. Now, since it is about half way past midnight and I do have school and work tomorrow, this'll be the last for the time being. Oh, and I didn't say this earlier, but if you don't know the song, I recommend listening to it if you can. Some of you may be like "Well duh!" but I don't know about you, but I half the time I read one of these type deals and I don't know the song, I just read the drabble and don't give two hoots about the song. But that way I miss a (usually) deeper meaning and a reason to what was written. And now, good night (or good morning; if you want to get technical).

* * *

_Careful - Paramore_

Balthier knew how comfort worked. He knew it asked a price and must be requested. It always wanted information in return for its service and would not present its self with out being requested, whether or not the request was verbal.

Balthier would never seem so weak as to ask its service. Neither had he ever been willing to pay its price.

Until comfort showed up in the brilliantly explosive form of Vaan. Around the boy he could feel his carefully pieced together façade of masculinity and sarcasm slowly crumble away and when they were alone he would finally allow it to fall completely, pillowing his head in the lad's lap while nimble fingers brushed through his hair and along his scalp. While Balthier would talk – about his screwed up childhood, his father, his mother (what he remembered of her) and anything else that came to mind – Vaan would just offer a listening ear and every now and again light brushes-of-the-lips to the pirates temples and forehead, silently urging him to say anything he felt he needed to.

Baltheir decided that maybe comfort wasn't so bad.


	3. Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up)

_Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up)-Florence and the Machine_

He, as none would have guessed, felt powerless. He, Doctor Cidolfus Demen Bunansa, Imperial scientist, father of a Judge, felt powerless.

Sure, he was successful and recognized as one of the most brilliant scientists in Arcades-no, in all of Ivalice. He had raised a Judge (never mind that Ffamran was still just a boy). Throughout his career he had amassed wealth and titles enough to rival King Midas. Never mind that all that wealth support his random bouts of genius (what the fool boy had once dared to call insanity) when Imperial funding wasn't enough.

The point was, he controlled _nothing._

He had not appointed Ffamran as a Judge (the boy was much too naïve for it in his opinion), he had not gained that wealth himself (his work merits credit for that), he had no control over when or what his mind wished him to _invent, create, discover. _He couldn't even sleep when he wished to (his own damned body decided that).

But then came Venat.

With Venat came the freedom of choice. He could now pick and choose which project to work on (with a suggestion from the Ocurria, of course), he could choose when his genius overtook him (with Venat's guidance), he didn't even need to sleep anymore and rightly he chose _not to._

Then came his estranged son, at the Pharos at Ridorana, trying tobtear his control away, trying to tear Venat away, wonderful, beautiful Venat, his friend, his power, his _savior._

But he had the ability of choice, and he chose not to let it happen.


	4. A Place For My Head

_A Place For My Head – Linkin Park_

What he feared most was not death, not capture and imprisonment, not the loss of something dear.

What he truly feared was becoming his father.

Losing his mind, losing sleep, pulling at his own hair in a bout of so called genius, grasping for a hold on anything except sanity.

And then there came those moments that scared him most, those moments he swore he could feel the madness creeping up on him, feel its cold, numbing fingers thread through his cerebral cortex. These times he sought the comfort of dark taverns, forgotten corners and fancy women, hoping vulgar distractions would keep it at bay.

In one such instance he had come across a certain desert brat in a narrow back alley, looking like the world was his oyster, unlike himself, who, while not completely inebriated, had drunk enough to limit his motor skills to the point that the support of solid wall as not unwelcome. When the little thief had recognized him, blonde brows rose in question just as one passed his lips.

"What are you doing here, Balthier?"

"I could ask the same of you, Vann," he had replied, proud that his words were only barely slurred, though he was almost certain his breath would smell of drink. While he had not drank much, Bhjerban madhu had a certain potency, if only in smell.

His theory was confirmed when Vaan's nose twitched and wrinkled once the smell hit him in the cramped alley. "You're drunk."

Balthier laughed, letting go of the wall in process only to fall into the other one. "I am not drunk, dear boy. I'm not even marginally inebriated."

"Yeah, well, the smell says otherwise," the boy replied, looking skeptical. "But why are you drinking? You never drink the night before we leave; you don't like flying with a hangover."

Balthier nearly cursed the boy for being sharper than anyone gave him credit for. "That would be none of your concern," he said, forcing his way around Vaan in the narrow space. "Even leading men deserve to enjoy themselves." With that the leading man stumbled out of the alley and around a corner, strait toward the brothels, leaving Vaan to frown after him before heading back for the inn where he immediately sought Fran.

He approached the table the estranged Viera had chosen to occupy in the common room, her ears twitching ever so slightly. Flopping into a chair, he explained he had seen her partner in crime drinking near the brothels. For a long moment she was silent.

"He searches for a place to rest," she finally said.

"But we rented—" he started, only to be cut off.

"Not physically. It is his mind that requires such. He is of the belief that hume pleasures can provide it."

"And do they?"

"No. He yet hunts for piece of mind."


End file.
